


eren & jean

by cuddly



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Reincarnation, Slice of Life, coffeeshop au kinda, ish, mostly just jean x eren my babies, other pairings pretty subtle tbh, sometimes dramatic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-14 17:03:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3418598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuddly/pseuds/cuddly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean dies on the day humanity regains its freedom, leaving Eren behind.</p>
<p>They get a second chance when they meet again in the coffee shop of a peaceful world, but even without titans, life would never be that easy.</p>
<p>(or: our two favorite boys just can't stay away from each other)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is just the prologue, so it's really short. Other chapters will be much longer. :)

It was March 30th, on Eren Jaeger’s nineteenth birthday, that humanity regained its freedom.

And yet he couldn’t so much as bring himself to feel triumphant. It was too early for celebration, too early for joy when the wind still carried the stench of human flesh, the cry of mangled soldiers. He raced from rooftop to rooftop, squinting against the setting sun.

Captain Levi and Commander Hange, barking orders.

Mikasa and Armin, scouting for the injured.

Sasha, slinging a limping Connie’s arm around her shoulders.

Reiner and Bertolt, clutching at each other in tears.

Ymir and Historia, walking hand-in-hand.

Every single person was accounted for—everyone but Jean Kirschtein.

Eren felt his stomach drop as he hurtled past shattered windows and crumbling brick, eyes peeled for that mop of blond hair. He whizzed past a pair of girls before one of their faces caught on his memory and he whirled around, gas canisters hissing. “Hey! You! Where’s your squad leader?”

She stared wide-eyed at him for a second before her lips began trembling. “S-Squad leader saved us from a group of aberrants.”

The hilts of his blades dug into his hands. “What…what’s that supposed to mean?”

“He…ordered us to run—“ she whimpered, “we didn’t seen him come o—”

He took off before he could spit out something he’d regret.

* * *

Eren found him swallowed by the shadows in an alley, sitting in a pool of his own blood. His legs were twisted at an unnatural angle and a hand was clamped around his abdomen.

“Jean!” Eren landed heavily beside him and patted his face with more force than he’d intended, thumbs sinking into sallow skin. A gash above Jean’s right eye had half his face red and sticky, and when he finally came to, only his left eye blinked open.

“Eren,” he croaked. The corner of his mouth lifted a little. “Hey.”

Eren’s hands trembled, hovering near Jean’s shoulders, unsure where it was safe to touch. “Are you…are your legs okay? We need to get you to the infirmary.”

“Eren,” Jean sighed, eyelids fluttering.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me. Hey, don’t fall asleep.” Eren pinched Jean’s cheek lightly. “Dude, c’mon.”

Jean blinked slowly, good eye half-mast. “’S nice that you’re here. Thought I’d die like Marco, no one with me, no one knowing…”

Eren swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat, the panic drying his mouth. “You’re not gonna die, stupid horseface. Stop being melodramatic. Now do your legs still work or am I gonna have to carry your sorry ass all the way back to headquarters?”

Jean just watched him for a long moment, and then his face twisted into the most pathetic smile Eren had ever seen. “I’m not gonna make it, Jaeger.”

“Like fuck you aren’t, y—” Jean lifted the hand around his abdomen, revealing a fist-sized hole where his intestines should be, blood steadily streaming out. Eren felt bile rising in his throat as he stared at the wall through Jean’s body where an ant was crawling up the brick.

The small smile was still on Jean’s face. “You know, I…I never...believed in that reincarnation shit that Armin sometimes…wondered about—” he coughed, and more blood spurted out of the hole in his gut. A whimper tore from Eren’s throat.

“No, no, no, stop talking, Jean. You’ll bleed out like this. Keep your hand there,” he grabbed Jean’s hand and tried to press it against his wound, but Jean shook him off weakly and clasped Eren’s hand in his own. “What the hell are yo—”

“Don’t cry, dumbass,” he husked. “Listen to me. After…I’m gone…find a pretty girl, okay? A real…pretty one…like…Mikasa…” The tears were dripping down Eren’s chin, Jean’s face blurring into a blotch of crimson and pasty white. He gripped Jean’s hand like a lifeline. “And…and have some real pretty babies, a-all right?”

“No,” Eren swallowed again, voice wavering. “Don’t tell me what to d—”

“And then…” Jean sighed again, softly. “In our next lives…find me…or I’ll find you…’kay?”

“No, Jean, please—”

“Y’haveta…be happy…Eren…’kay? Promise. Promise. For me.” Eren was still shaking his head, his tears getting everywhere. “Eren.”

“Okay,” Eren gasped. “Okay, I promise you, Jean.”

Jean gave him a true smile then, one of those rare, warm ones that smoothed his brow and pulled his lips gently upward, eyes softening into half-moons. “See ya later, Jaeger,” he whispered. And then his whole body relaxed in a final exhale, his expression that of a free man’s. Eren stared down at him, Jean’s hand limp in his. Thick red slicked through cracks in the cobblestone, spreading, down, down the street.

It was March 30th, on Eren Jeager’s nineteenth birthday, that Jean died.

* * *

In reality, Eren had only spent three years together-together with Jean, but they had been the most fulfilling years of his life. And yet how quickly he'd had even that smidgen of happiness torn from him, how fleeting their last moments before Eren's confidant, his emotional rock, his rival, his partner-in-crime, his lover, ceased to exist. How terrifying it was that the absence of a single person in his life could make waking up each day that much more difficult; how lonesome it was that his hopeful plans for the future suddenly lost meaning.

For two months after Jean’s death, Eren snapped at nothing, threw things, spent hours staring into space, and cried until the ferocity of his heaving sobs threatened hyperventilation. And then he picked himself up and moved on. Armin and Mikasa coaxed him into joining the new Exploration Corps with them, where he spent the rest of his days realizing his dreams, giving his love to snow-capped mountains, vibrant flower fields, gaping canyons, and of course, ocean-side sand beaches.

He lived to be seventy-nine years old.

He never did find anyone else. No one quite filled the hole in his heart that Jean had left, and he was fine with that. (If he did it partly to spite Jean too, then, well, perhaps some things just never change.)


	2. Someone Different

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And on to the present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So this is a pretty long chapter. Not sure if the others will be quite this long, haha. Thank you for the support so far. This chapter is dedicated to DoomedTemperament: the first official reviewer of this story! :) 
> 
> Warnings: profanity and mentions of sexual content.

It was a typical January afternoon, snow piled high on sidewalks, wind whipping red into pedestrians’ cheeks. Every time the door jingled open, a blast of cold wind whirled into the little corner shop, along with a squeaking of wet winter boots. Eren could only be glad that he wasn’t on cleaning duty today.

“Why, hellooooooo there, handsome.”

He groaned, not even looking up from his counter-scrubbing. “Man, don’t you have anything better to do, potato-girl? You’re here, like, every day.”

“That’s not very nice, Eren. I don’t think your boss would appreciate you saying that. Also, I happen to like the overpriced coffee here.”

He stopped and smirked at her. “Sure it’s the coffee and not something else you like?”

Sasha flushed. “B-Be quiet! I just like the coffee! And the atmosphere! And, you know, how everyone else is always here too!”

“Sure, sure. By the way, this is totally unrelated, but Connie called in sick today.”

“What? He’s sick?” When Eren shot her a shit-eating grin, she scowled. “You know what. Whatever. Just give me my cappuccino already.” She thrust her handful of exact change at his face.

“Comin’ right up.” He scribbled “Tater” on the cup and shoved it along the counter, returning to his scrubbing.

Historia always made fun of him for it, but he found that his favorite task to do at the coffee shop was cleaning the counters. He’d never been particularly obsessive when it came to cleanliness, but there was just something inherently satisfying about clearing what he’d claimed as his space from all the powders, syrups, milk, and coffees that dotted it as the day went on.

“Eren,” a low voice deadpanned behind him.

“C-Corporal!” he whirled around to face the short man. The latter’s crossed arms, ramrod-straight back, and stony expression were as lethal as ever. “I, uh, I’m cleaning the counter like you told me to! I-I hope it’s up to your standards, sir! And I thought you weren’t coming in today…?”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Calm the fuck down, you little shit. I’m just dropping in to pick up a couple bags of French roast since Erwin was saying that we were running out at home. Also, how many times have I told you to stop calling me that? You’ve been working here for a month now.”

“S-Sorry.” Eren’s arms snapped to his side when he realized that he’d unconsciously saluted.

The ex-titan shifter had recovered his memories on his nineteenth birthday, ironically enough, as had everyone else he knew from his past life. When he’d woken from a dream of a completely different lifetime, the first thing he’d done was jump out of bed and fling open his bedroom door, skin crawling from the overly realistic pictures still running through his mind. Armin, his childhood friend and roommate, and Mikasa, his adoptive sister who had been visiting during pre-finals break, looked like they had just vaulted out of bed themselves. Twin shouts of “EREN!” and the three were clinging to each other on the ground, sobbing.

He’d spent days after that searching for Jean—on Google, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, LinkedIn, and even the phone book. But none of the photos, none of the Jean Kirschteins that picked up their phones replied with the egotistical “yo, suicidal bastard” he’d waited over sixty years to hear.

Eventually, he kind of just…gave up. His promise with Jean tugged at his heart, but what was Eren to do, really? Where was he to start looking, in a world of seven billion people?

Sometimes, he still hoped. When he met Sasha and Connie in History 102, he’d swept through every single face in the lecture hall to be safe. When Ymir and Christa had ambushed him in the grocery store, he’d given the aisles an extra sweep even though he’d already gotten everything he needed. After Reiner had yelled at him from across the room at a frat party, dragging Bertolt and Annie with him, he’d hopped on top of a table and squinted for dirty blond hair.

And now he was twenty-three. He hadn’t met anyone else in the last two years.

“Cappuccino for…uh…Tater!” their part-timer called.

“Real mature, Eren!” Sasha shouted at him as she snatched her drink from the wide-eyed teenager. “We’ll see how many versions of “potato” you can come up with! And FYI, I don’t even eat that many potatoes anymore!” Eren just snorted.

On his break, he hung up his apron, grabbed himself a cup of coffee, and found Sasha by the window. She peeked at him through her eyelashes when he sat down across from her. “So…um…is Connie really sick?”

“Yeah. Flu or something.”

“Oh.”

Eren sipped idly at his Americano. “If you’re worried, why don’t you go visit? He’s probably back at the dorm.”

“Eh,” she shrugged. “I dunno.”

“What’s going on with you two anyway?”

“What do you mean?”

“Y’know,” Eren gestured vaguely with his hands. “This whole…relationship thing.”

Sasha frowned at him. “You know we’re not together.”

“Yeah, see, that’s kinda what I’m asking. Why aren’t you? It’s clear you both like each other. And weren’t you even married? Like, before?”

She paused, then carefully closed her laptop. “That was different.”

“How?”

“We were in love, we were married, and we even had two little kids. But that was another life. To be honest, I don’t even remember much after we beat the titans. It’s like my memories were clear as glass until that day, and then the rest is just a blur of reconstruction, exploration, settling down. Peace.” She twiddled her thumbs. “Do you…do you get what I mean?”

Eren’s brows furrowed. “It’s the same with me. And with Mikasa and Armin too. None of us remember much past that day. I always thought it was because…you know. Thought that my mental age just got stuck there.”

Sasha hummed. “Yeah. Who knows?”

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re not with Connie.”

She groaned, smacking her face on her laptop lid. “It’s just—I’m scared!”

“…Of what…it’s not like titans exist anymore…”

“No, not that, you idiot! Actually no, that’s kind of the reason why. Now that we don’t have to be afraid for our lives anymore, now that we have peace, I’m just afraid that Connie will want to consider other options!”

Eren’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Ohhh.”

“Yeah, oh! I mean, like, I don’t wanna make him feel like he _has_ to be with me just ‘cause we were married once. What if he has another girl he fancies? Or what if he doesn’t want a serious relationship at all?” She buried her face in her hands.

The realization chilled Eren to the bone. She was right. Probably not about Connie, but what about…

“I guess that’s a reasonable concern, but I dunno if Connie’s that complicated, Sasha. I think he’s the type of guy where if he likes you, he likes you, and he doesn’t think much past that,” he said, patting her hand. She looked up, lips quivering and eyes watering.

“Y-You think so?”

“Well, talk to him first before you have a mental breakdown, yeah?”

“Yeah…” she sniffed. “Yeah, you’re right.”

* * *

After work, Eren walked the long way home. He kicked his shoes off at the door, haphazardly threw his bag somewhere on the ground, and flopped face-first on the couch.

“Eren, you’re home,” Armin wandered out of his room, stretching after what was likely a long study session.

“Mmff,” Eren grunted from the couch.

“Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“Nmff.”

“Okay, I’ll go order some pizza then?”

“Hmmgghhh nnmff.”

“I know, I know, Hawaiian.”

Eren heard him murmuring on the phone in the kitchen before he drifted back and plopped down on the couch. “So how was work?”

“…”

“Did something happen?”

Eren sighed through his nose, lifting half of his face from the plushy cushion so he could peer at Armin. “Sasha came by.”

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Isn’t she always there?”

“We were talking about her and Connie. And why she’s scared to ask him out or whatever.”

“Ah.”

“And then…” Eren paused. “I dunno, I was just thinking that it’s weird. How our memories are all blurred after that day. I only remember bits and pieces, like how the ocean felt on my feet, or what the bread that Mikasa burnt whenever she tried to bake smelled like.”

Armin laughed. “No one really knows, I suppose. But it could be a good thing.”

“What, how?”

The blond shrugged. “Maybe it’s to give us a new chance to live. If we had all of our memories, we’d be old souls in these young bodies.”

“Huh. Never thought about it that way.” They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment before Armin broke it.

“I don’t think that’s what’s bothering you though,” he commented.

“Man, sometimes I wonder why you’re going into law when you’d make the scariest psychiatrist ever,” Eren grinned at him.

“I kind of have to know the human mind to be a lawyer though, so I’ll take that as a compliment. Now stop changing the subject.”

“I wasn’t! It’s…like…” Eren rolled almost violently on to his back, grabbing a pillow to his chest. “Sasha said she didn’t want to tie Connie down since, you know, this is a world where we don’t have to worry about the person we like getting eaten on the next expedition, and she said we were all different from how we were before, which makes sense since we grew up in peaceful times, and even if she was married to Connie he might not want that anymore!”

Armin’s gaze was warm with understanding. “You’re thinking of Jean, aren’t you?”

Eren scowled, a reflex to any mention of the blond, before his face crumbled in defeat.

“You know, Eren, it’s true that we’re different now. It’s kind of inevitable. We’re not afraid to get attached to other people, our days aren’t as immediately numbered, and everyone’s more carefree. But,” Armin smiled gently, “we’re more mature too, having those years of war within us. And you can think of Sasha and Connie as an example. This time, they grew up in different cities and didn’t know each other until college, but they still have those same feelings. So don’t give up on Jean just yet, okay?”

Eren took in a deep breath. “You’re right. Yeah.”

“You’ve changed too, you know. Your temper’s not as volatile, you smile more, you’re more open with your feelings. And you actually think a little before you speak now.”

“Hey!”

“But I guess you still got into lots of fights. Remember back in elementary school? And middle school. Oh, and high school, I guess. Wait…have you been fighting in college as well…?”

Eren threw the pillow at Armin.

* * *

Later that night, he skyped with Mikasa. The overprotective sister that she was, she was only barely satisfied with skype calls three times a week.

“Eren, you seem a little quiet today.” Mikasa’s pixelly brow was furrowed in worry.

“I’m fine,” he smiled at her reassuringly, relaying his conversation with Armin.

“I see,” she said simply. A pause, and then she added, “Jean would be an idiot to give you up. I’d kill him.” Eren smiled wryly.

Yeah. He was being stupid, worrying about nothing. He’d deal with it when the time came. He’d always been more of a doer than a thinker anyway.

* * *

The next evening, snow was coming down in droves, people piling into the coffee shop to indulge in a cup of warmth. After a month of working at The Café (Levi couldn’t have been bothered to choose a more original name), Eren could confidently say that he’d gotten the hang of rush hour. Today, his job was to replace the more experienced Ymir, who’d taken sick leave, in making drinks. Levi had said that Eren had potential, what with his quick reflexes, at which Eren had tried not to openly beam. Obviously, an entire lifetime was not enough for the young man to tire of his Levi idolization.

“Salted caramel hot chocolate for Jessica!” he called, already reaching for the next cup in the lengthy line-up. He jumped when Historia suddenly appeared beside him. “’The hell, where’d you come from?” She gestured over to the cash register.

“Eren,” Historia whispered, squirming. “You should take the next customer.”

“What?” He frowned and pointed to the waiting orders. “I need to do these though.”

“Err…but—"

“What?”

“Uh, just—just, please! I really need to go—um, pee!” she cried.

“O-Okay! Why didn’t you just say so? Go, go, leave the till to me.” Historia scrambled towards the back room, and he wiped his hands on his apron, striding to the far end of the counter where the register was. “Hi, what ca—"

The man looked up. Eren froze, mouth slightly open.

If Eren was completely honest, the memories of _his_ face had gradually blurred over the wear of time. But seeing it now felt like a punch to the stomach, the way everything looked exactly as he should have remembered.

He was a little taller, slightly broader, his beige pea coat snug around the shoulders. The collar of his white dress shirt and accompanying tie peeked out from the top of his coat. He looked all grown up, but it was that same undercut of dirty blond, those golden eyes, sharp nose, and scowling mouth. Even the air around him was familiar, the way his hands were stuffed into his coat pockets.

Eren’s heart hammered. “J-Jean…?” he breathed.

The man’s scowl softened in surprise, his face going slack, and then he slowly said, “How do you know my name?”

All around them, people were shifting around, chattering on their phones, Sarah McLachlan crooning softly in the backdrop. But all Eren could hear was the blood rushing in his ears, and he wondered if he’d misheard. “…What?”

“I asked—” the man who looked like Jean leaned closer, frown back in place, “—how you knew my name.”

Eren stared into those eyes, glinting in the dim café lighting, searching for any hint of deceit. He found none. “You…you’re joking, right? This is some kind of fucked up prank, right?”

The man cocked an eyebrow. “Pretty sure we’ve never met before.”

And at that moment, Eren was hit with the full realization of what was happening. He felt like someone had punched him in the gut, the air whooshing out of lungs. Clutching the counter with whitening fingers, he squeezed his eyes shut. His breaths were loud in his ears.

“Um…you okay, dude?”

“Eren?” He turned slowly, blinking into Historia’s startled gaze. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” She glared at Jean. “What did you do, Jean?”

“What? I didn’t do anything! I was just standing here waiting to get my coffee and then Mr. Woozy there started accusing me of pranking him or some shit!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air. “And how do you know my name too, what the fuck!”

Historia stiffened. “You don’t…you don’t remember?”

“Remember what?” he snapped. Eren just kept watching him blankly. “Look, if he’s fine, can I please get my coffee? My fiancée’s been waiting outside for twenty minutes because it’s so fucking crowded in here, and she’s probably freezing her ass off.”

Eren snapped out of his daze. “Fiancée?” he muttered. Historia paled.

Crossing his arms, Jean glowered at him, foot tapping impatiently. “Yeah, my fiancée—what’s it to you? Can I just get my fucking coffee already?”

An irrational fury that Eren hadn’t felt in decades ignited in his stomach, the heat burning its way upwards, consuming his body.

A fiancée? He had a fiancée. Not a fling, not a girlfriend.

A fiancée.

Eren saw red. He launched himself over the counter, jumping on Jean. The two of them crashed to the floor as people gasped, scrambling away, blocking the path that led behind the counter. There were a few screams when Eren pulled his fist back and slammed it into Jean’s jaw.

“Stop it, Eren!” Historia yelled, struggling to haul herself over the tall countertop.

Jean blinked dazedly for a moment, his eyes wide in shock, before growling and thrusting his knee into Eren’s stomach. As Eren doubled over in pain, the taller man took the chance to flip him on to his back, pinning his arms with his own. “What the fuck is your problem, you little shit?!” he shouted into Eren’s face.

Eren snarled and kicked Jean’s leg out from under him. When Jean toppled, out of balance, Eren freed his arm and slammed Jean back on to the ground, straddling his legs. He yanked at the collar of Jean’s shirt, pulling him closer. “My problem is you!” he yelled back. “It’s always been you, you fucking horseface!”

“What the fuck did you just call me?!” Jean's fingers bunched up Eren’s collar in retaliation. “I don’t even know you, fuckface!” They wrestled on the ground, throwing elbows, shoving, pulling. Their clothes were coloring from the dirty water on the floor that had been trailed in by sodden shoes, and the cries of the crowd were getting louder. Eren heard someone calling the police, but he was already too far gone.

“Eren! Stop!” Historia kept wailing at him. She had no way of safely hopping over the counter with the two of them rolling around on the ground. “This is wrong, Eren! You know it’s not his fault!” He ignored her.

They hadn’t truly fought like this even in their trainee days. The frustration, the anger, the desperation—Eren’s blood was boiling, his mind blanking, and he let his instincts take over, relinquishing all restraint, holding Jean down, drawing his fist back—

“EREN FUCKING JAEGER!” Historia screamed. “THAT IS _NOT YOUR JEAN ANYMORE!_ ”

The words were like ice water thrown on his face. He stared down at "Jean". Although he recognized the fire in those eyes and the confusion behind them, although he knew they gleamed a lighter shade in the sun and that they crinkled at the corners when Jean was happy—this wasn’t Jean; this was a stranger. Eren faltered, but it was too late, his fist was already flying—

There was a sickening crack, and then blood began flowing. Jean cried out, cupping his hands around his nose, but the red kept dripping from between his fingers, dyeing his coat in small patches. Eren sucked in a sharp breath as horror crawled in his stomach. “Fuck! Fuck, Jean, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mea—" he stammered.

“Fuck, you broke my fucking nose!” Jean moaned, face scrunched up in pain.

“I don’t know what I—I’m sorry, sorry…” Eren’s hands trembled as he reached for Jean’s face, and the strange sense of déjà vu only worsened the wrenching in his gut. Jean's filmy gaze darted from Eren’s outstretched fingers to his red-rimmed eyes. Then he slowly lifted a hand from his nose, an odd light in his blown pupils.

“Jean!” A petite woman with long, brown hair burst through the crowd, and Eren recoiled. “Jean, what in the world…!” She fell to her knees beside the two men, surveying the damage. Whirling around with a glare that had Eren flinching back and stumbling off of Jean’s legs, she demanded, “Did you do this to him?! What the hell is wrong with you!”

“I-I’m—"

Jean groaned. The woman whipped back to face him. “Forget it,” she muttered. “Let’s get you to the hospital.” Wrapping her hands around his arm, she pulled him up and towards the door.

“’m fine,” Jean mumbled. “Just a little dizzy. No hospital.”

“What? Are you sure? But—“

“No hospital,” Jean repeated firmly. He turned around, leveling a nasty look at Eren, who was still on the floor in shock. “Don’t think this is over, you bastard.” And then he stalked out.

Eren sat there for a long moment, cold wind from the open door raising goosebumps under his clothes.

* * *

When Eren got home, he ignored Armin, who jumped up from the couch at the sight of him, and headed straight for his room.

“Eren?” Armin called from the doorway. He didn’t respond, silently stripping down to his boxers before climbing into bed. “Um…Historia called and told me what happened.”

“…”

“I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it.”

“…Sorry, Armin. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Nah, no need to be sorry. We can talk in the morning then, if you’re up for it. Goodnight, Eren.” Armin turned off the light and quietly shut the door.

A muted patch of light shone on his comforter-covered feet through the crack in his curtains. It bothered him. He climbed out to pull the curtains closed before burrowing back into the sheets.

He wanted complete darkness tonight. He wanted to mourn properly, if only for a single night. For the first time since he could remember, Eren allowed the memories to wash over him, unbidden and bittersweet. He thought of how it had all begun.

* * *

It started with sex.

Eren was sixteen and functionally a mass of stewing hormones. A world of terror they may have been living in, but a sixteen-year-old here was a sixteen-year-old anywhere; when he wasn’t vibrating with the need to kill titans, a completely different kind of need was pulsing through his body. It was, to say the least, extremely inconvenient when he was stuck hiding out in a cabin with the rest of Levi squad.

He wasn't too worried about it, having caught his fair share of fellow soldiers awkwardly jerking it in the bathrooms, warehouses, or even stables. It wasn’t until one day when they were having a practice drill that he realized he had a bigger problem than he’d originally thought.

The door slammed open at precisely five am. “Time to get up, shitty brats,” Levi announced, marching in. “I don’t care if it’s ass-crack o’clock; the titans wait for no one. This is a speed test so you’d better roll out of bed now, soldiers.” He left as quickly as he’d come, heading for the girls’ room.

Eren groaned, throwing his covers off and rubbing the crust from his eyes. But when he looked up, all lingering weariness disintegrated like a tornado had sucked it out when he was met with a view of Jean’s sculpted back hugged by a tight t-shirt. 3D-maneuver-gear-marked skin pulled taut over his muscles as he reached behind him to tug his shirt off. Then Jean turned to grab his bag, and Eren’s teeth sank into his bottom lip at the sight of thick veins protruding from popping biceps, straining forearms.

_Think of what the veins on his hard, swollen cock would look like…_ A desperate, high-pitched noise that squeaked from the back of his throat caught Jean’s attention, who was sadly almost done buttoning his shirt.

“…The fuck you staring at, Jaeger?” His voice, gravelly from sleep, had Eren fighting back a shudder.

“N-Nothing,” he muttered, tongue feeling too big for his mouth. He slid off his bed and scurried to the bathroom, hoping no one had noticed his hard-on.

That was the first time he jerked off to Jean, visions of him pinning Eren down and then sinking into him with a moan on the back of his eyelids.

Eren was disgusted and more than a little ashamed of himself afterwards. Thinking it was a fluke, he just avoided Jean’s puzzled glares and tried to forget about the incident.

He knew he was fucked when he caught himself jerking off to the horsefaced bastard for the third time in a week.

He didn’t even know why it was happening, really, and why so suddenly. Jean was admittedly good-looking, sure, and he had a nice body—but this was the military, where a lean, fit body was a requirement, and six packs were abound.

As Eren mulled over his new-found obsession, his eyes followed Jean wherever he went: when they were training, when they were eating, when they got a rare chance to just sit around and joke. And Jean, the bastard, obviously noticed the holes Eren was boring into him every chance he got. One day, he followed a red-faced Eren to the communal showers and found him frantically tugging his cock, little gasps of _ah, Jean, Jean_ whimpered through swollen lips. After Jean got over his shock, he’d been baffled, curious, but mostly _smug as fuck_ —and gay enough to help out the mortified brunet.

And that marked the pathetic beginning of their romantic relationship.


	3. Compensation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SORRY THIS IS LATER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE uni be beating my ass

Eren woke with a start to Lady Gaga blasting from his alarm clock, cymbals clashing in his ears and a tinny bass beat ringing in his brain. He stared at the ceiling, unsure where he was at first, but his dreams were already fading by the second. Rolling over, he smashed his hand on the off button, and just lay there for a moment, reveling in the silence.

His room was blanketed in a grayscale filter by the dim morning light, granting a rare calm to the cluttered space, clothes and binders and papers were littering the floor. It was a sight that was in parts infuriating and comforting; each monotonous day went on in the way it always had and probably always would, Jean’s sudden appearance in his life be damned. Eren sighed, burying his face in his pillow, floating in its softness for a few extra minutes, and then dragged himself out of bed.

Armin was already sitting at the kitchen table, dressed in a hoodie and jeans for his AM classes. “’Morning,” Eren yawned, scratching his head. Passing out the night before had granted him some much needed rest. He felt rejuvenated, strong enough that he didn’t want to curl into a ball or beat something up every time he thought of what happened the day before.

“Good morning, Eren,” Armin said, putting down his phone. “I bought corn flakes yesterday, if you want some.”

“’Kay.” He grabbed himself a bowl and flopped down beside his roommate.

“So…how are you doing?”

Eren sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Been better. But I’m okay. Sorry ‘bout last night.”

“No, I understand. And that’s good.” Eren crunched on his cereal for a moment before Armin scooted closer, his expression bleak. “So was it really Jean?”

“…Yeah.”

“And…no memories? At all?”

Eren gulped down a spoonful of milk to lubricate his dry throat. “No.”

“Wow.” Armin hugged his knees to his chest, looking so small and dejected that Eren felt bad for telling him. “I’m sorry, Eren.”

“Don’t apologize, Armin,” he said, unable to think up comforting words. “It’s not your fault.”

Armin chewed on the inside of his cheek, wiggling his toes. “Um…did you actually break his nose?”

“…”

“Oh my God, you did.”

“It’s not like I meant to hurt him,” Eren moaned, stabbing the milk with his spoon. “I was so mad. I mean, seriously, the most I’ve done in this life is kiss maybe two girls, but even that felt wrong. And I lived for sixty years before that without anyone else, all because of him, and then he comes prancing in with his gorgeous fucking fiancée. Not saying that, you know, if we switched places that he should wait for me for sixty plus years, but...I dunno. Maybe I was just mad at myself for being so pathetic.”

Armin’s lips pressed together in sympathy and he patted Eren’s shoulder. “I’m not saying you did the right thing, but I can definitely understand why you did it.”

Eren sighed, deep and heavy, then went back to shoveling cereal into his mouth with renewed vigor. “Thought I matured. Thought I got over him,” he muttered.

Armin chuckled a little sadly. “Eren, you never got over Jean. He died so suddenly that you never got closure. You never even really got to the acceptance stage; you were always just stuck in denial and suppression.”

Eren knew he was right, but that just made him feel more pathetic. How long had he gone before he’d let himself think about Jean at all? “…Great.”

“But hey, look on the bright side. At least you know he exists now, and that he’s within reach.”

“Why the fuck would it matter when he’s got a fiancée,” Eren grumbled. “I’ve got my pride. Like hell I’m gonna go and beg him to ditch her.”

Armin just shrugged. “You never know what’ll happen in the future. Oh, and speaking of Jean…um, I hope you don’t mind, but I skyped Mikasa last night.”

Eren felt a chill run down his spine. Knowing Mikasa, he could already guess that whatever Armin said next was probably going to be alarming. “Did you tell her?”

Armin bit his lip. “Yeah. She said she was gonna transfer here to Trost University.”

Eren’s mouth dropped open. “What?!”

“I don’t know, she said that she’s been looking into it for a while. I think Trost is offering her a full-ride scholarship, so she didn’t see why she should stay at Shiganshina all the way out in the middle of nowhere, especially since we’re in this area. And then after yesterday, she was convinced that you’d need the emotional support, so she made her decision.”

A wave of relief swept over Eren. “Oh. Well that’s cool, if it’s something she was thinking about already. It’d be nice to have her around. I’ve missed her.” But then Armin began fidgeting, and Eren knew something was off. “What’s wrong?”

“She was thinking of living with us.”

“’Course. Well, I mean, if you’re okay with that.” Eren blinked. “If you’re worried ‘bout what I think, then you shouldn’t be. Mikasa and I did live together all the way ‘till college, after all.”

Armin cleared his throat, drumming his fingers on his chair. “I know, I know, but I was just making sure that you wouldn’t feel awkward or anything.”

Eren frowned. “Dude, I have no idea what you— _oh_.”

Armin laughed, a nervous, clipped sound. “Yeah...”

But Eren just snorted, waving his hand dismissively and going back to his cereal. “Don’t worry, Armin. I got used to you guys being together when the titans were still around. As long as you don’t make out in front of me, I really couldn’t care less. The fact that you two are still my best friends hasn’t changed.”

Armin beamed at him. “I was hoping you’d say that! Thanks, Eren.”

Eren grinned at him around a mouthful of soggy corn flakes. He was happy for them, truly, but he couldn’t help feeling a little envious that they’d had the chance to grow old together, find each other, and fall in love all over again.

* * *

It had poured the night before, so there was only slushy snow left on the roads. The sun peeked out from behind a feathery stratum of clouds, painting the puddles in dazzling colors. Eren cursed as he dodged the large potholes scattered on the streets, wondering for the billionth time when they’d get fixed. When he finally made it to The Café, relieved that his shoes had stayed relatively dry, he was met with Levi guarding the entrance to the back room like a bouncer, arms crossed. The short man would’ve looked comical standing like that in his work apron if not for the fury emanating off of him in waves.

“Good afternoon, Cor—um, Le…vi…?”

Levi’s narrowed gaze pierced into him. “I’ve been waiting, shitty brat. Come.” Eren bit the inside of his cheek and trailed behind his boss into the storage room at the back, passing by Historia who grimaced and threw him a thumbs-up. Levi flicked on the ceiling light, sitting down at the small circular table in the middle of the room, and gestured for Eren to do the same. “So. I heard we had a bit of an incident last night.” Eren shifted, his chair creaking.

“Yes. I, um, punched a customer.” He didn’t even need to look up to see the veins popping out of Levi’s forehead.

“You did _what_?” Levi said, voice deathly quiet.

Eren cleared his throat. “I’m very sorry. I promise that there were, uh, extenuating circumstances.”

“I figured,” Levi growled. “As hotheaded as you are, you’re not the type to go around punching people for no reason. Historia refused to tell me a thing, the brat, so I’m asking you why you did it.”

“I-It was my fault, sir. I threw the first punch. I told the police everything when they came, but by then the customer had already left, and I haven’t heard anything all day, so I don’t think he’s pressing charges or anything…”

The clock ticked several times as Levi’s heavy gaze continued to bore into Eren, who tried not to fidget. “Look,” Levi finally said, his voice velvet-smooth. “I am asking as your boss, but also as your...long-time acquaintance. What happened, Eren?”

Well, shit. He couldn’t exactly brush off that kind of concern. Eren fiddled with his jacket. “…n.”

“Speak up.”

“I-It was Jean, sir.”

Levi blinked for a moment. Then he sat back in his chair with a thump, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. A long while later, he said, “Should that not have been a nice little reunion?”

“He, um, doesn’t remember anything,” Eren mumbled. Levi’s eyes shot open.

“Everyone remembers.”

“Don’t ask me, I don’t know why.”

A pause, and then Levi sighed like he believed expelling all the air from his lungs would make his problems dissolve along with his breath, as slouched in his chair as Eren had ever seen him. “I understand the situation now. I won’t be punishing you this time as long as it doesn’t happen again.”

“H-Huh? You’re not punishing me, sir?” Levi turned to glare him straight in the eye.

“What? You want me to beat your ass?”

“N-No, sir!” Eren yelped. “Thank you, sir!”

“Dismissed.”

“Yessir!”

Later, Historia sidled up to him when he was tying on his apron in the locker room. “Everything okay? Did he chew you out?”

“Nah,” Eren said, straightening his clothes. “Everything’s fine.” She hummed in response. “Do you…think he’ll come back?”

Historia shrugged. “Sounds like something Jean would do, doesn’t it?”

Eren barked out a laugh. “Guess so.”

* * *

They didn’t have to wait long. During their slow period a few hours later, Jean strolled in like a victorious king parading through his conquered lands, mighty aura only slightly dampened by the bandages that wrapped all the way around his head, covering the middle section of his face. Eren watched him approach, seeing in the set of his jaw and the way his chin stuck out that whatever happened next would probably remind Eren why they’d always gotten into fights when they first met. He blatantly ignored the way his palms began to sweat in nervous excitement and the almost physical pull he felt towards the approaching man. Any positive feelings he had had in the past for Jean were now irrelevant.

He forced his face to smooth as Jean stormed up to the counter. “What can I get for you?” he asked placidly, and gave himself a mental high-five for his steady voice.

Jean slammed both hands on the counter, shoving his face into Eren’s. The brunet tried not to flinch. “I’m demanding compensation, you fuck,” Jean snarled, although the intended viciousness was undermined by his nasally voice. Eren’s brows drew together when Jean reached around and pulled his bandages off, revealing dark red spots that were beginning to purple over his entire nose and under his eyes. The blond glared at him expectantly, and the realization that Eren had no idea whatsoever what this Jean was thinking, what he wanted from Eren, was more distressing than the sight of those ugly bruises.

Eren’s frown deepened. “So you suing me or something?” he spat, fists clenching.

“What?” Jean said, sounding thoroughly disgusted at the mere idea. “No, that would be too much trouble, and I’m not that much of an asshole,” he muttered, untangling the bandages so he could re-pin them. “I wouldn’t sue a fellow struggling young person just for a broken nose. That shit would probably go on your criminal record.” Eren let himself relax slightly. At least some things hadn’t changed; Jean wasn’t a complete douchebag, even if pulling off all his bandages just to flash his bruises was pretty idiotic. Then again, Jean had always been a bit of a show-off.

“Oh,” Eren mumbled. Jean glanced up at him, looking offended, but continued to silently straighten his bandages. Eren realized that he was being given time to make his decision on how to respond, and his jaw tightened.

He needed to apologize. No matter how much of an arrogant asshole Jean was, the fact remained that he had done nothing wrong, and that Eren had made a mistake. This stranger was at no fault for the ex-titan-shifter’s fucked up jumble of emotions, and Eren knew this, knew that even if he was hurting, it was his responsibility to act like an adult. He had grown, hadn’t he? He’d been proud of his own growth, hadn’t he?

Eren sighed, his nails releasing themselves from his palms. “You need help with that?” he murmured, nodding towards the bandages.

Jean stiffened, suspicion written all over his face. “Sure…?” He hesitantly offered Eren the long strip of white cloth and bent so that the shorter man could comfortably reach the back of his head. As Eren gingerly wound the bandages, his fingers accidentally brushed through Jean’s hair, which was suitably spiky at the undercut and floppier at the top. It was coarser than it looked, but pleasant to the touch. In fact, this hair texture was kind of reminding Eren of a certain animal…he snorted, and the sound lifted a tension that had been slowly crushing his chest.

“What’s so funny?” Jean was glaring up at him.

“Nothing,” Eren said, trying to keep his expression neutral. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

Surprisingly, Jean let it go. His wheezy breathing filled the air for a moment, and then he remarked gruffly, “You’re an odd one.”

“’Scuse me?”

“You can’t argue that. First you punch the living daylights out of me for no fucking reason, and then you help me bandage the nose that you broke.”

Eren smiled mirthlessly, although Jean wasn’t looking at him anymore. “Yeah, well, I felt bad afterwards. I really am sorry.”

Jean scoffed. “Whatever, man. Don’t think that just ‘cause you’re being nice that I won’t ask for compensation.”

“I know, you moron.”

“Mor—”

“There, done.” Jean straightened up, feeling the back of his head to find the bandages snug and secure.

“…Thanks, I guess.” His eyes flicked down to the nametag pinned on Eren’s apron. “Eren.”

Eren grunted and crossed his arms. “So what kind of compensation you looking for?”

Jean scowled, suddenly looking about as reluctant as Eren felt as he dug around in his shoulder bag. “I’ve been suspended from work for two weeks since I can’t go around promoting products with this face, so I’m gonna need you to pay me back for that.” Eren took the letter that Jean slid across the counter, the Smith Advertising logo in bold at the top.

“You work at Erwin Smith’s company?” Eren exclaimed.

Jean’s brows knit together. “Yeah, so what?”

“Of all the…I don’t even know what to say,” Eren sighed. “Fine, whatever, I agreed that it was my fault, so I won’t go back on my w—” he stopped, eyes bulging when he saw the numbers. “Wait. Waaait a sec. Shit. I can’t pay this. I don’t have that kind of money lying around. I have college and rent to pay too.”

Jean just shrugged helplessly.

Eren laid the letter down, his face crumbling. “Look, I know that what I did was wrong, and I really do feel bad for punching you out of the blue. But I’m just another guy trying to make it out here, man. Where am I gonna pull 2k out of?”

Jean’s cheeks flushed a subtle red and he glared to the side, avoiding Eren’s eyes. “You know, I didn’t want to go so far as to ask you to pay my entire salary since I’ve got my pride too, but my landlord’s a crazy bitch. I’ll get kicked out if I don’t pay on time.”

“Can’t you…can’t you just ask Erwin to let you work anyway?” Eren asked hopefully.

“Even if I did work, there’s no way I’d get any business. I’m in marketing; people aren’t gonna accept proposals from a punk who gets in fights.” Eren groaned and ran his hands over his face.

“Hey, how much do you spend on food?” a voice piped up behind him, making him jump and whip around.

“Shit, Historia, how do you do that every time?” Her sparkling blue irises weren’t even directed at him, and he narrowed his eyes, recognizing that scheming look.

“Well?” she raised a delicate eyebrow, hands on her hips.

Jean blinked. “And you are…?”

“Eren’s friend. Now answer the question.”

“Uh. A third of my paycheck, maybe?”

“Wow. That’s…actually quite a bit. You eat out a lot?”

“I can’t cook,” Jean stated matter-of-factly. Historia rolled her eyes.

“So that’s your largest expense, other than rent, right?”

“…Yeah…”

“And Eren, you cook most of your meals, don’t you?”

“…I guess…?”

She beamed. “Why don’t you just have Eren cook your meals then?”

The two men gawked at her with twin expressions of open mouths and glassy eyes. “Huh?” they blurted at the same time. Historia upped her megawatt smile to full power, clapping in glee.

“It’s simple! If you spend that much money on food, then Eren can take care of that expense for you. You’d just have to worry about rent!”

“Wh—But—How would that even work?” Jean sputtered. “We’d have to eat all our meals together? And rent takes up another large portion of my paycheck, so it’s not something I can just wave off, you know.”

Historia cleared her throat. “Do you, um, eat all your meals alone?” Eren ignored the stabbing feeling in his chest.

“Pretty much, yeah.” A very unsubtle gleam in her eyes, Historia glanced at Eren, who just stared back, trying to smother his petty relief at the fact that Jean apparently didn’t eat with his fiancée.

“Then I don’t see the problem.” Jean squawked and flailed for a bit while Eren’s gaze kept darting from him to Historia, mouth flapping open.

“But rent?!”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Historia crossed her arms. “Don’t you have savings or anything? I’m sure you can afford two weeks of rent without pay!”

“Look, I’m sorry, all right?” Jean near-shouted. “But I need every penny! You think weddings are cheap?” Both baristas froze. Eren swallowed audibly, his gaze dropping to a spot of coffee on the counter.

“I see. Uh. Right,” Historia said quietly.

An awkward silence ensued that Jean didn’t quite understand but felt guilty for anyway as he cleared his throat, brushing off his bag. Eren just toyed with his apron as Historia stared off into space.

Honestly, Eren should have seen it coming. He didn’t even have the right to feel hurt; he knew that, but the dreaded word still made the blood drain from his face, the stabbing in his chest get harder to ignore. Before he could dig himself deeper into a hole he probably wouldn’t be able to crawl out of, another voice drifted from the backroom, shattering the moment.

“I’ve listened to this shit long enough for my ears to bleed,” Levi snapped as he stuck his head out to glare at the three kids. “This isn’t rocket science. If it’s meals you’re worried about, then you only need to eat dinner together. Just pack leftovers for lunch and grab a scone or something from here for breakfast. In fact, I’ll even make it on the house if you’ll just _get back to work_.”

The realization dawned in three pairs of eyes, and Levi wondered how any of them had made it through high school. Then again, high school was full of idiots.

“Cor—Levi’s right…”

“Maybe that would work,” Jean mumbled, scratching his head.

“Actually, about your rent…well, if it’s just your rent for two weeks and not your entire salary, I do have a little of my grant from last semester still. I could pay you back in installments.”

Jean’s mouth fell open. “Really? You would do that?”

Eren shrugged, unable to bring himself to look Jean in the eye. “I did a stupid thing, so I need to own up.”

Jean wet his lips and gave a jerky nod. “All right. But shit, dude, you’re making me feel bad by being so nice about this. I walked in here prepared to fight ‘cause I thought you’d freak and knock me out or something,” he admitted with a small chuckle. “I swear I wouldn’t ask for that much if things weren’t so tight.”

Eren offered a weak smile. “Nah. Cooking for one more person wouldn’t make a huge difference anyway.” Historia bounced on the balls of her feet, looking pleased.

“Great, now that we’ve reached a heartwarming resolution, you two shits need to get back to doing what I pay you to do.” With that, Levi disappeared back into the storage room.

“…But no one’s here right now,” Jean whispered.

“Always lots to do in a coffee shop,” Historia replied breezily. “Now shoo. Come back tomorrow or something and you can work out the details with Eren.”

“Yeah, I need to head home now anyway. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“Bye,” Eren muttered.

Jean turned to go, leaving Eren to watch his retreating back with mixed emotions. As the blond pushed open the glass door, his coat swishing behind him, he called over his shoulder, “Guess you’re not all that bad, Eren!”

The door swung shut and Eren rolled his eyes. “Show-off.”

* * *

Eren spent the night tossing and turning, wondering if he’d made the right choice. It was like dangling a treat he knew he couldn’t have in front of his face every single day, and he didn’t know if he could take it. Historia’s words became his mantra: this is not your Jean anymore. Not your Jean, Eren repeated to himself, even if he looks like him, talks like him, walks like him.

He didn’t reach even a semblance of a conclusion by the time evening rolled around, and so he resigned to simply going along with the farce. He’d fought sixty-meter titans in his past life and won. What was two weeks of dinner with Jean?

At ten before six, Jean shuffled his way through the door, but Eren was so swamped that he didn’t notice the blond squashed into a corner until minutes before his shift ended. The everlasting line of orders meant that he couldn’t leave even if he was off until Ymir showed up, and as the clock ticked slowly to 6:01, 6:02, then 6:05, Eren only grew antsier.

“Where’s Ymir?” he hissed to Historia, who herself only had the chance to chat while she was grabbing pastries for customers.

“I don’t know,” Historia whispered back. “Maybe she’s late again?”

Eren just groaned and moved at double speed.

At 6:08, the freckled rock band singer finally showed up, not looking all that remorseful. “Hey babe,” she grab-hugged Historia around the waist, then turned to Eren and smirked like she knew something he didn’t. “Sorry I’m late, practice ran a little long.”

“Ymir!” Historia scolded. “I told you not to be late today. It’s a special day!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, Eren’s first date in like, a millennium. Sorry, bro. Reiner’s parents are gonna be back next week and they hate it when we practice in the garage, so we had to work out all the kinks today.”

“It’s okay,” Eren sighed, already tearing off his apron. He made for the backroom, calling back, “And it’s not a fucking date.”

“Sure,” he heard Ymir taunt back. “So where’s Jean?”

“Over there,” Historia replied.

“Shit, it really is him. Damn. Look at ‘im, all dressed up like someone who actually matters. Eren’s gonna have so much fun. But hey, doesn’t he look like the type who ain’t used to waiting for people? Maybe I did Eren a favor by coming late, huh, ‘cause now Jean’ll be all pinin’ for him.” Historia giggled, and Eren ground his teeth, pretending he couldn’t hear them as he felt around for his jacket in the darkness. This was how he would pay for his sins. Yes, he reminded himself, he’d tried thinking of alternative ways to pay Jean back but had come up empty, so this was all he could do for now. He would deal. He could do this.

When Eren finally wrestled his jacket on, he rushed back out, nearly stumbling over a cardboard box. “I’m off then. See you guys Monday!”

“Bye, Eren!”

“Have fun on your date, kid.”

“It’s not a date, for God’s sake,” Eren gritted out as he unhatched the partition door leading out to the tables, glaring over his shoulder. “Hasn’t Historia told you?”

“What, that he’s engaged?” Ymir shrugged, impressive considering she was juggling a bottle of syrup, a mixing cup, and a can of whipped cream. “I believe in soulmates.” Something in Eren’s stomach gave a twinge, but he just scowled, shutting the partition behind him.

Reaching Jean proved to be more difficult than he’d expected, having to squeeze himself through a zig-zagging line of coffee enthusiasts waiting to order, then a spotty crowd of those waiting for their cups. The blond was leaning against the wall in a slightly emptier corner near the washrooms, tapping away on his phone. He glanced up when Eren approached, and the sight of his casual smile was almost enough to make Eren’s resolve to go through with his promise crumble. “Hi, sorry I’m late,” Eren puffed, out of breath. His hair was probably a mess.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, I saw that you were busy so I kinda just hunkered down here,” Jean said, still nasally. Eren was relieved to see that the bandages didn’t cover as wide a section of his face as yesterday. “’s it always this busy in the evenings?”

“Nah.” Jean seemed to wait for an elaboration, but when Eren wracked his brain too long for something to say, Jean took that as the end of the topic and just nodded.

“Okay. So…what now?”

“Uh.” Honestly, Eren hadn’t thought this part through; he’d just been killing himself over trying to make the right choice.

Jean snorted. “How ‘bout we exchange phone numbers first.”

“Right. Um, lemme see where I put my phone…” He fumbled around in his jeans and puffer winter jacket before triumphantly digging the iPhone out of his backpack. The taller man smirked.

“Loyal Apple fan?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious as he took the proffered device.

“Just the phone. Music is easier to access on iOS.” Jean gave a thoughtful “huh” and handed Eren his own Samsung. “You? Loyal Android fan?”

“Yeah, I like the customizability. Though to be honest, I’m too lazy to fully customize everything the way I want it to be. I just like having the option.”

“What did you end up customizing?”

“Hmm…widgets, mostly.”

“What are widgets?”

Jean looked up from Eren’s phone, a look of incredulity crossing his face. “You don’t know what widgets are?”

“Am I supposed to?” Eren asked defensively. “If it’s an Android-only thing then I probably won’t know about it.”

“Fine, I’ll show you. Like, see here…oh crap, sorry, were you done creating your contact info?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, good. So like here,” Jean shifted closer, swiping on his home screen, and Eren tried to control his breathing. “I have some news widgets for sports stats, and some notification widgets…and then this search bar here is like a shortcut to my GPS so I can type in where I need to go without tapping a few billion times.”

“Oh. So they’re these little box-things that act like…shortcuts?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

“That’s cool,” Eren conceded as they took back their respective phones. “I’ve only ever owned second-hand iPhones, so I didn’t know Android was so different. Too bad we don’t get widgets.”

Jean smiled at him wryly. “It’s true that iOS is more convenient for listening to music though.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Eren smiled back, but it still felt a little forced, so he stopped and stuck his hands in his pockets. “So what do we do now?”

“Well, my suspension technically begins on Monday, so…”

“Oh.” An odd mixture of relief and disappointment churned in Eren’s stomach. “Do you just want to meet up on Monday then? Since we agreed that I’d be making your meals for those three weeks.”

Jean frowned pensively, adjusting his shoulder bag. “Actually, you free tonight?” Eren’s heart rate picked up.

“Yeah. Why?”

Jean grinned, an eagerness in the way his canines shone. “As thanks for being so agreeable, allow me to treat you to the best tacos in town.”

* * *

The “best tacos in town” were hidden smack-dab in the middle of Main Street, dwarfed by an authentic okonomiyaki restaurant on one side and a brand name clothing store on the other. Despite its camouflaged door that melted into the surrounding white walls and the blatant lack of a sign, its bustling business was characteristic of an enterprise in downtown. The parking lot at the back was full, so they had to circle around the block three times before snagging a spot.

Inside, it would have been dark if not for the fairy lights strewn all along the ceiling and walls of the restaurant, weaving between long wooden tables that stretched across the entire space, shared among several parties. Chatter floated amongst family, friends, and lovers, somehow only enhancing the cozy atmosphere.

The place had such a _mood_ that Eren was beginning to feel embarrassed. It was difficult to hold on to his gloominess in the face of hundreds of twinkling lights.

“It’s so fucking pretty,” he said in wonder.

Jean smirked, but his brow was a little furrowed. “Not your kind of place?”

Eren turned to him with wide eyes, grinning sharply. “The hell you on about? I love it!”

They didn’t take too long to study the menu since there were so many choices that Eren knew he wouldn’t be able to properly decide, so he just went with the waitress’s recommendation.

“Want nachos? The nachos here are awesome,” Jean proposed, waggling his eyebrows.

“Sure. To share?”

“Yeah, it’s a huge plate.”

“Then an order of nachos with that, please.”

“Gotcha. Anything else for you gentlemen today?”

“That’s it for now. Can we keep a menu in case we want dessert?”

“Sure thing,” she chirped, and left after collecting the drinks menus.

Eren cleared his throat. He decided to put aside his reluctance to meet Jean; he’d made a choice, and he would stick to it. Acting like a depressed assface when Jean obviously loved the place would make him a douchebag, and the restaurant was truly nice, so he might as well enjoy it. “So…” Eren started conspiratorially, the weight on his shoulders much lighter with his revelation, “is this what actual tacos are supposed to be like? ‘Cause there were some odd combinations in that menu.”

Jean snickered, bracing his cheek on his hand. “They were probably pretty liberal with most of the flavors, but this is what the real thing is supposed to be like. Forget that Taco Bell shit, this food makes you feel _alive_.”

“Hey, don’t insult Taco Bell. That place was my sanctuary in high school.”

“Fine, not gonna lie, it was mine too. But the food here is on a different level.” Eren rolled his eyes.

“So you hung out at Taco Bell all the time, too? I guess high school’s the same for everyone, huh, Mr. I-Wear-Suits-Everywhere.”

“It’s not like I want to dress like this all the time,” Jean groaned. “I had to do something with my business degree. At least it’s not a full-time desk job. I’d probably die.”

“Why’re you all dressed up today anyway? It’s a Saturday, and you were suspended, weren’t you?”

“Yeah, but I had to go in and show the boss how bad my nose was and confirm the suspension.”

“Oh, I see. I’m guessing two weeks for the discoloration to disappear, then.”

“Uh huh. Apparently that’s usually how long it takes.”

“Never had your nose broken before?”

“Nope. You?”

Eren smirked. “Not recently.”

Jean hummed. “So what do you do? I think you said you were still in college? I woulda guessed that you’re the same age as me.”

“Pretty sure we’re the same age,” Eren said with a grim twist to his mouth. Their age differences were all the same as they had been before, after all. “I’m twenty-three. I took two years off before college to travel.”

“Shit, seriously? Where’d you go?”

“Uhh, I went backpacking in Europe for a year. I started in the UK and wandered through most of the Romance-speaking countries. The next year, I flew to Southeast Asia, then worked my way north to Japan. I never stayed in the same area for over a month.”

“So you, like, worked odd jobs here and there to stay afloat?”

“Yeah, I did a lot of shit. There was the really hard stuff like factory work and construction, which was mostly in Southeast Asia. And then there were the dumb things like delivering newspapers, walking people’s dogs, doing dishes in restaurants. Oh, the restaurant one was real special. I was at this maid café in Tokyo, and all the maids spoke in really high-pitched voices, and I thought it was the most annoying thing ever, but our customers _adored_ it.”

Jean blinked for a second before bursting out in startled laughter, impulsive and carefree in a way Eren had never seen before. Even though it sounded a little wheezy because of his swollen nose, the brunet couldn’t help the grin that split his face.

Their conversation flowed in the effortless way of two people who had known each other for decades. Eren told Jean about how he was a little over a year away from his physical education degree, and how he worked at The Café most afternoons after class to pay his bills. He even revealed that although he currently worked only Tuesday and Thursday evenings at Mike Zacharius’s dojo, his dream—one he’d told a mere handful of people—was to someday open his own to teach judo and karate.

Jean told Eren about how he’d always been average at most things: he got average grades, played most sports at an average level, had an average number of friends, and believed himself to be average-looking, which he admitted with a reddening face. (Eren begged to differ; he knew how attractive Jean could be when warmth spilled from his usually guarded gaze to loved ones, or when he hardened with determination to conquer an objective that was larger than his own life—but Eren couldn’t tell him that now.) The only things that Jean thought were marginally different about himself were his height and his soccer ability. His parents had hoped that he would go to college, and so he did, where he obtained his Bachelor of Commerce while leading the varsity soccer team to nationals.

“And you didn’t consider soccer for a career?” Eren interjected, in awe but unsurprised at the same time. Jean had always had superior hand-eye coordination.

“Nah,” Jean said with a tiny smile. “Soccer’s fun, but I didn’t want to make it my life.”

Time flew by in an instant, and they were on dessert before Eren noticed they’d even finished their tacos. The banana churros were delicious, crispy sugar on the outside and creamy heat on the inside. After chugging the rest of their beers, Jean grabbed the bill and they headed outside to meet cool winter air. Jean buttoned his coat all the way up and wrapped his knitted scarf several times around his neck and bottom half of his face, then stuffed his hands in his coat pockets. He stared at Eren, whose face was a little red from the beer, forest-green jacket hanging open. “Dude, how are you not freezing?” he mumbled through his makeshift mask, breaths puffing white.

“Huh?”

“It’s like, minus ten out here and you’re just wearing a super thin hoody and your jacket’s not even zipped.”

“Oh, I’ve always run a pretty warm temperature. Plus my jacket’s warm ‘cause it’s one of those, like you know, poofy…uh…what do you call them…”

“You mean a down jacket?”

“Yeah, that!”

Jean grinned, and Eren imagined that the tip of his covered nose was probably red. “Great vocab you got there.”

“Shut up.”

For a moment, Jean looked as if he was about to make another jab, but he cut himself off. “So where about do you live? I’ll give you a ride back.”

“I’m near Trost University. Where are you heading?”

“I was thinking of going home and getting some leftover work done. I live in Stohess.”

“Oh, it’s fine then, I’ll just take the skytrain since I’m farther out.”

Jean frowned. “You sure? I don’t mind.”

Eren smacked him on the back. “It’s fine, dude. Don’t want you having to double back. So I’ll see you Monday then? You wanna meet up at The Café or at my apartment?”

“The Café’s good. It’s in between our places. And I might get lost if I have to go directly to your apartment.”

Eren snickered. “Sure. See you then.”

The corners of Jean’s eyes crinkled. “Bye, Eren.”

Eren turned and trudged in the opposite direction that they’d come from, sneakers squishing along the slush-covered sidewalk. He counted ten steps, and then let himself peek over his shoulder. Jean was a spot in the distance, hunched into his clothes and speed-walking to his car, little clouds of his breaths trailing after him. Eren snorted to himself. The idiot might have grown a little, but he was still as bitchy about the cold as ever. He turned back around, a tiny smile on his face.

Talking with Jean had made Eren realize that he wanted the blond back in his life. Sure, Jean had a fiancée, and it hurt like fuck, knowing the man would never be his in this life. But that didn’t mean Eren couldn’t try to be his friend. As a friend, Eren would still get to share Jean’s smiles and tears; even if he wasn’t Jean’s number one, he wanted to at least be a good bud. And if that proved to be too much (too little), then Eren wouldn’t be seeing Jean after the upcoming two weeks, in any case. For now, nothing was stopping Eren from simply having a good time.

He headed home that night feeling a little more comfortable in his skin.


End file.
